For The Greater Good
by PessimisticSorcerer
Summary: When a group of bandits enter the kingdom of Camelot, it just seems like an ordinary day for Prince Arthur and his manservant Merlin. But when Arthur's knights are killed and a three-word message is left, this sparks a terrifying chain of events.


**CHAPTER 1: THE CHOSEN PATH**

Merlin's breath slowly echoed out in front of him in wispy streams. He crouched lower and lower in the bushes, covering himself with leaves and branches, trying not to make a sound. His eyes were slowly shutting, his head beginning to droop forwards in tiredness and exhaustion after three days travelling. There had been warnings of a band of men from a neighbouring country crossing over the border, and Uther had sent Arthur and his knights to ward them off. Or die trying. That seemed to be the underlying message the King was giving out these days.

"There's no one here," he grumbled to himself under his breath. It had happened too many times to count, and was all manufactured from Uther's paranoia of magic. Of course, it was unlikely that the band of men from the neighbouring country would show any signs of magic, but that had been the first thing Uther had picked up on. Merlin had just smiled obliviously, nodded, and followed Arthur on this wild goose chase. He had to admit, most of the time it _did _involve magic, so sometimes Uther had a point.

"Merlin!"

The warlock heard a low hiss from behind him, and immediately spun around, catching his sleeve on a low branch and collapsing into a heap on the floor. From his position, Merlin could just make out the silver of Prince Arthur's chainmail, darkened by the shade of the bushes around them. His face was a picture of pure loathing.

"Merlin, were you _born _this clumsy, or are you just doing it to impress me?" He growled, grabbing the back of Merlin's jacket and pulling him back into his crouching position.

"Do you really think they'll be here?" The servant asked, squinting through the foliage into the small clearing beyond, the light from above dancing on the cobbled pathway that lead through the forest. They were on the outskirts of Camelot, and in front of them was the path that stretched through the outlying villages and further on into the neighbouring country. This was the easiest route into the heart of Camelot, and, as Arthur had explained, the trail where they were last seen.

"Of course they will," Arthur snapped, moving noiselessly around Merlin and peering too into the glade ahead. "It's just a matter of waiting until they come. You've been on a hunt before."

"Not one that's been so boring," Merlin whispered, resting his head on his hands. He could tell it was going to be a long wait, with very little drama at the end of it. Most of the time, sightings like these were just villagers playing tricks with the King's mind (and most of the time, they regretted doing so), or a group of travellers that just happened to look like a gang of bandits trying to muscle in on Uther's kingdom.

There was a sudden movement to the left of the two men, and Merlin felt Arthur's body tense beside him, his arm slowly moving towards his waist and unsheathing his sword. There was a rustle, a piercing crack, and then something large fell from the sky. Merlin couldn't help but jump backwards in surprise, and he could even sense Arthur start too. It hit the floor, and the Prince gave Merlin a warning look before slowly moving towards the dark mass in the clearing ahead. The manservant followed.

"What is it?" He asked, peering around Arthur.

"_Shut up_ Merlin," came the reply, the Prince reached the heap and slowly turned it over. A shock rippled through Merlin's body, it was a man. Not just a man, sheathed in chainmail with the royal emblem of Camelot printed on his cold chest, he could only be one of Camelot's knights. Neither Arthur or Merlin could have known his name, for his face was so mangled by the hail of arrow fire that had struck him moments ago, that only a pulp was left, an arrow sticking from the middle with a small note attached to it.

"Sire," Merlin, voice barely a whisper, pointed towards the knight's face. "A note."

The Prince, whose face was now a light shade of blue, reached out with a gloved hand and peeled the note from its' resting place.

"What does it say?" The manservant asked, averting his eyes from the bloodied mess that lay on the floor in front of them. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Arthur did not reply, instead, he closed his eyes, exhaled loudly and stood up. "We need to dig this man a grave. It's the only thing we can do for him now." Merlin nodded and retreated back into the bushes to find their equipment.

The thoughts now running through his head were too disgusting and plentiful to comprehend. What sort of beast could have done this to such a man? A noble man at that. Where were the other knights that he and Prince Arthur had brought with them? Were they too, lurking in the trees, faces mangled with no identity and no name? The young man shuddered at the thought of it, and tried to erase the questions from his mind. One, however, stuck fast and churned over and over again as he dragged the large satchels back into the clearing and began unpacking, trying to find some sort of digging tool - and as they began to burrow into the dampened earth in silence, Merlin stole a glance sideways to the Prince, who had his back to the other and seemed to be toying with something else. The note that had been pinned to the knight's face was inches from Merlin's grasp, and with Arthur seemingly preoccupied he grabbed it roughly and began to read. It was dirty and soiled from the place it had once been, but the neatly woven handwriting sporting just three words was easily made out, and it caused Merlin's breath to catch in the back of his throat.

"_Bring us Emrys_."

The manservant dropped his gaze, pushed the note away and began to fumble in the dirt once more, a guilty feeling dropping in his stomach, as if it was suddenly writhing with worms. The knowledge alone, that the death of this man was his doing, made Merlin violently sick.


End file.
